Snowdrop
by seiyuna
Summary: Kuroro knows nothing of a love apart from his Spiders. That doesn't mean that he can't learn. (Or: In which Kuroro keeps a dysfunctional family together while trying to survive the Dark Continent.) — Omegaverse AU. Sequel to Nightshade.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Staying by Kurapika's side meant interfering with whatever he had planned during the course of this journey, despite his convictions that he could handle everything on his own. Kuroro was never one to listen—he would be damned if he let his mate get himself killed when they had come this far.

Cold air rushed past Kuroro, raising goosebumps on his skin, and he wrapped his arms around himself for the bare warmth it provided. His jacket wasn't as warm as it could have been, but the heavy material was a relief against the chill of the wind. Only three days outside of camp, and he was already wavering on his feet, just barely able to walk let alone guard them from whatever horrors the Dark Continent may conjure.

Silence stretched between them, punctured only by the sound of grass and stones beneath their shoes, and Kurapika drew a sharp breath before stopping in his tracks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Kurapika turned his gaze towards him for a brief moment, before returning his attention to the forest. The stamina that Kurapika possessed was compelling, and he had to ignore the concerned looks that continued to be shot his way. His irritation seemed to have simmered now, buried away.

It was quiet, but there was an edge to Kurapika's tone, the stubborn insistence to do it alone. "You still won't trust me?"

"You are more than capable of taking care of yourself," Kuroro answered, something that he had assured Kurapika more than once in the past. "But it seemed unwise for you to venture in this kind of place without assistance. A few days have passed and even between the two of us, we have yet to find what you're looking for."

Kurapika said nothing in response, but the tense line of his shoulders relaxed a bit, slumping into something more natural. He began walking again, slowing his steps to remain beside Kuroro rather than moving ahead like usual. Without the danger and threats between them, they had exchanged a fair amount of information, though not enough that they possessed complete knowledge of each other's motivations during this expedition.

It was evidently too much to ask that Hui Guo Rou's succession war be contained during the voyage. The remaining princes—and by extension, their bodyguards, were assigned missions to accomplish in order to challenge their right to the throne. If it were up to Kuroro, he would have abandoned the duty to the Kakin princes long ago—but this was Kurapika's decision and he was intent on ensuring that his employers remained free from harm.

The forest became thicker as the day wore on, with the trees leaning heavily over them and blocking the warmth from the sun. They had been trekking through trees for hours now, and Kuroro became increasingly restless as their surroundings grew dark and oppressive.

In a stroke of luck, Kurapika felt the wind change in time for them to seek out shelter, darting down the path between overgrown greenery and into a deep cave. It was dry and spacious enough for two people, and Kurapika wasted no time with kindling a fire to ward off the chill. Caution made Kuroro hesitate, but he decided that they would be fine for a few hours.

From the mouth of the cave, he witnessed the greenery tremble from the onslaught of rain, heavy enough to drench them to the bone in moments. Their clothes were disheveled and dirty, and despite that their situation could have been worse, it could have been much better too. He busied himself with retrieving new sets of clothing and food from the Fun Fun Cloth, handing Kurapika his backpack as he looked for his own.

"Thanks," Kurapika murmured, with the first smile Kuroro had seen in awhile. He unwrapped a ration bar before taking an unenthusiastic bite out of it. "That ability is probably the only advantage to you coming with me."

"You have no idea how useful I can be," Kuroro answered with a grin of his own.

There was a quiet hum, as if he wasn't entirely convinced. As Kuroro shrugged off his jacket and the rest of his clothing, he kept his eyes on his hands, breaking off pieces of the bar as he consumed them. Kuroro would be lying if he wasn't feeling a tad disappointed at Kurapika's disinterest, but he couldn't be blamed considering how exhausting the past few days were. He pulled on a new shirt and loose pants, and laid his jacket on the ground so he could sit on it.

Despite that he was now dressed in clean clothing and had no risk of dying from exposure, his mood didn't improve at all. He seated himself close to Kurapika and now that he could pay attention properly, he took a careful breath, breathed in his scent, and found a slight change as Kurapika noticed him.

It was easy to feel the faint pangs of hunger, rising from the instinctive parts of him rather than from a lack of nourishment, warm and bitterly familiar. He caught the sight of Kurapika taking a drink from his water bottle and procuring a nondescript bottle of pills, and Kuroro found himself swallowing in turn. Kurapika shook out a small pill into his palm and swallowed it down, routine evident in his consumption.

"I thought you stopped taking suppressants."

"I would prefer that no one else finds out about my status."

"Why?"

Kurapika cast him a sharp glance. "You wouldn't understand. You've probably been an Alpha your entire life."

"I presented when I was a teenager. Around fourteen, I believe."

"Older than me. I was twelve when—" Kurapika stopped short and hesitated.

Kuroro had a semblance of understanding. He had fought for survival, for vengeance, living with grief and remembering every moment of every day of what it was that he had lost. The anger had burned away, leaving only the ache in his heart that nothing would be the same again.

"My first rut was terrifying," Kuroro said in an attempt to lighten the mood between them, but the low heat in his abdomen revealed he was anything but joking. "It was so painful that I passed out in the middle of the road, but my friends were there to help me through it."

"Helped you," Kurapika repeated with a raised eyebrow, in a tone that suggested suspicion.

"As in, they ensured that I didn't die." He rested his head against Kurapika's shoulder in reassurance. He remembered how the first thing that he noticed was his heightened sense of smell, how he felt lightheaded from the fragrances of incense and perfume wafting from his friends. He ended up spending most of his time outside, only able to tolerate the cool air of the evening.

The feverish dreams soon followed, with him waking with a start in cold sweat, curled up with a relentless ache twisting throughout his entire body, with no one to call his own. "I'll have you know that I'm a faithful man."

Kurapika snorted. "I'm sure."

He stayed in that position for a long moment, and then there were fingers sweeping through his hair, slow and gentle. He focused on the repetitive movement, finding that it was comforting, a light feeling that was nearly buoyant. Kurapika was like a second presence to him—as if there was a part of him that did not belong to him.

"I've seen it happen too often," Kuroro spoke quietly, as if he was imparting the most important secret of all, that he had been the one to sever so many of these bonds, "the loss of a mate—that you don't die when your other half dies."

"And that isn't a good thing?"

Kuroro laughed, soft and poignant. "Not when you have to live with the inescapable pain that comes with the loss. You don't die, but for the rest of your life, you wished that you had."

It was an enigma—how he, connoisseur of all things tangible, became so invested in the fiction of soulmates and intimacy. He shifted so that he could gently pull Kurapika into his lap, pressing his chest against his back, and the touch was unexpected enough to make Kurapika shiver. He buried his nose against his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin, and Kurapika leaned closer to him without hesitation.

His lips settled on the nape of Kurapika's neck. Kuroro heard him stutter out a quiet gasp as he moved closer to the bite mark, where Kuroro had marked him, claimed him as his own, and it took everything not to leave another bite in its wake.

"Kuroro." Kurapika's eyes became heavy-lidded as he looked back at him. "Kuroro, what's going on?"

He found himself grinding against Kurapika's backside, which could only mean one thing. Just as he came to his senses, he retracted his grip from Kurapika as if he had just been burned.

He couldn't. He couldn't face the loss of control that came with it, not here, not now.

It was one thing to act on his desires when they were in the comfort of their bedrooms, but it was an entirely different thing to do so when they were at the mercy of nature in an uncharted land.

"It's my rut," Kuroro admitted in a carefully controlled tone, belied by the tension-tight hunger of their bond. He didn't particularly enjoy feeling vulnerable, but there wasn't another term that could apply in this situation. He dragged himself back under control, and tried to shake off the heat that was smoldering deep within him.

"I shouldn't force this upon you—"

"Kuroro," Kurapika repeated, and the warmth in his voice was softer than what he knew what to do with. "It's fine."

"I don't know if I can be gentle."

Kurapika turned towards him now, so that they were facing one another. His hands moved to the sides of Kuroro's face, startling hot, and he leaned down until their noses brushed. His entire line of vision became composed of only a halo of blond hair, flushed cheeks, and crimson eyes.

A contemplative look flickered across his features, before he pulled Kuroro closer and slowly closed the space between them, effectively stealing the words from his lips. It drew a hungry sound from Kuroro, a wash of power that lingered at the back of his throat, and he returned the kiss, harsh and desperate. Kurapika was the one to ease the kiss back, until he was pressing his lips gently against the edge of Kuroro's mouth.

Kurapika made a soft sound as they separated, flushed and breathless. His blond hair fell messily around his face and Kuroro extended his hand to caress his cheek, tucking his hair behind one ear. There was something mesmerizing in how the gentle glow of the fire fell along his features a little softer, like the sun was trapped and spun into hair, and it pulled him in all the more. Kuroro couldn't recall a single time in his life that he wanted someone this much, in the most unforeseen of circumstances.

Kurapika closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, placing his own hand over Kuroro's own in assurance.

"I'll trust you."

* * *

Please read my other two fics, Nightshade and Narcissus first to learn more about my omegaverse AU.

Thanks for your patience with this fic! A lot of things changed in my life during the past few months. I received my degree and I'm a working professional now, but I still want to apply to medical school sometime in the near future.

The reason why this took so long to upload was that I was uncertain of how to write the Dark Continent arc. Because Kurapika's mission of retrieving the eyes and Kuroro's desire to steal the Kakin treasure could be resolved during the Black Whale arc, there wasn't really a point to set this during the Dark Continent.

However, a multichapter fic on the Dark Continent does not exist and I have the ability to put Kuroro and Kurapika through some more serious trials and tribulations, so this fic was a product of those realizations. I managed to barely upload this in time for September 4th, the day that Kuroro and Kurapika meet in the Yorknew arc.

Also, I've pretty much accepted Lynlyn's fic as canon. Seriously, go (re)read that masterpiece.

Please note that I will not focus too much on action/adventure/worldbuilding. Because this is an omegaverse series, the focus of this fic will still be on that trope. In regards to the length of the chapters, my wrist has not healed yet and it has been difficult for me to type longer chapters, but I will compensate with the quantity of the chapters. Please feel free to leave a comment!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Trust was not something that Kurapika easily spoke of.

Not when he had been composed of raging fire contained by skin and bones and enough conviction to handle the weight of his past on his own. Not when he didn't need anyone else and never needed anyone in his life.

How could he place his trust in Kuroro, when Kuroro was without morals or mercy for anyone but those close to him—when he had more blood on his hands than anyone else? The notion frightened him to his very core, but their bond called out to him, sang to him, making him want to reach out to touch and comfort Kuroro like no other could.

Kuroro was everything that he shouldn't have wanted, but he assumed the burden of this knowledge long ago. Against the sound of blood rushing in his ears, the beat of his heart pounding in his throat, he made the decision to accompany Kuroro through his ill-timed fever. But Kuroro was looking at him with faint incredulity, uncharacteristic uncertainty, and Kurapika didn't let his gaze waver. He found Kuroro's reaction ill-suited for him and that made him feel strange, self-conscious, and his resolve was faltering.

He moved his hands to Kurapika's waist, resting them there as Kurapika was seated in his lap. "You're being surprisingly calm about this."

"I could say the same to you," Kurapika answered lightly. He watched how the fire played over Kuroro's face, the light dancing in the constant darkness of his eyes. It was nothing like the all-consuming fire of the Scarlet Eyes, and more like embers being coaxed to life. "You've been looking at me like you want to devour me but you've yet to act upon it."

It was a surprise that he hadn't. Three days had passed since they departed the Hunter Association's encampment to fulfill Kurapika's mission and throughout this time, Kuroro kept him in sight with a focused intensity that was more predatory than anything else in the Dark Continent. He ignored Kuroro's unnerving attention in favor of concentrating on the mission, but it became increasingly clear that Kuroro's condition wasn't going to improve any time soon.

Kuroro arranged his expression into a semblance of innocence. "Was I that obvious?"

"You look more pained rather than aroused," Kurapika pointed out, gaze softening. He reached out to sweep Kuroro's dark hair away from his damp face, where his bangs plastered to his forehead and cheek. The back of his hand brushed against Kuroro's cheek, and his skin burned with a relentless fever. "How do you usually handle your ruts?"

"I don't do anything out of the ordinary," Kuroro answered cryptically, and Kurapika longed to hear what he wasn't saying. "I could never spend it with a stranger, regardless of how awful it was."

His fingers traced the curve of his cheekbone, then trailed downwards to his neck, the delicate dip between his throat and shoulder. He felt Kuroro shudder. "What happens then?"

Kurapika pressed down with gentle pressure. Kuroro visibly flinched, his reaction surprising them both, and Kurapika caught the flash of something dangerous in his gaze. The sudden surge of pheromones was heady enough to make his head spin, and adrenaline flooded his heart.

The cave smelled of burning wood from the fire, wet stones and rich moss, but all he was fixated on was Kuroro's scent. It was stronger now, bringing him back to a stolen afternoon in the library where he lost himself in the endless aisles of well-read tomes, coffee at his lips. It was sweet and captivating, somehow making him feel like he belonged, when it was the only familiar thing to him in these unknown lands.

Without warning, Kuroro seized Kurapika's wrists in both of his hands, his grip tight enough to bruise. A rush of heat coursed through his veins, settling low in his abdomen.

Kuroro shut his eyes in an effort to compose himself, then he stared right into Kurapika's own. There was a hardness in his eyes, a tight tension in his jaw and the line of his shoulders. "I'm unwell for around a week, but it should be more manageable now that we're bonded together. You should know better than to go through with this."

Kurapika tried to flex his hands in Kuroro's grip, but he didn't yield. How unexpected, when Kurapika was used to being the one pushing him away. "You aren't going to hurt me."

A low, warning sound caught in Kuroro's throat. "I don't want you to do this because I need you."

Kurapika nearly rolled his eyes at his stubbornness. "There is nothing wrong with needing me."

"If you don't want—"

"I want to," Kurapika affirmed. "What else can we do?"

Kuroro's brow furrowed. "Do you?"

"Yes." Kurapika slightly tilted his head to the side, exposing the vulnerable part of his neck. He didn't miss the way Kuroro's gaze lowered to the expanse of skin there before meeting his eyes again. "I trust that you won't hurt me, although I'll make sure that you regret it if you try."

Kuroro stared at him, and the space between them was chasmic.

Kuroro gave him the opportunity to refuse, and he should have. He should have hated the swell of longing in his chest, the weight in his lungs from the intensity of hunger in Kuroro's gaze, but he was well beyond that. There was an ache for something more—to run his hands along Kuroro's back as he buried his face in the juncture between Kuroro's neck and shoulder, inhaling his scent; to splay them against his broad chest and feel the beat of his heart, reminding him of his humanity.

He knew nothing of romantic love—only the vestiges of platonic love from those who were long dead and had yet to die. But Kuroro's love was an obsessive, possessive thing, shrouded by the guise of gentle hands and tender kisses.

And he wanted it all the same.

Kuroro's grip loosened around his wrists. He caught Kurapika's chin with one hand and tilted his face upward, searching for something in Kurapika's eyes that he knew nothing of. He pressed against Kurapika's bottom lip with his thumb, and his gaze—the kind of gaze that only an Alpha intended for his mate—arrested Kurapika's breath in his chest.

"What," Kurapika began, throat suddenly too dry, "do you want?"

He wondered what stalled Kuroro, when he knew that Kuroro desired him so much that he was starving for his touch, that his very soul was aching for him.

"I want you," Kuroro murmured, and it was so easy, the way he said this. "I have never wanted anyone as much as you."

Never had Kurapika realized how much it pleased the instinctive part of him to hear that. Kuroro's hands wandered from his face to his body, reaching beneath his dress shirt to explore the contours of muscle and bone he had come to learn in the past month. The heat of his palms branded where they met his bare skin, and they lingered on his waist. His hands were so gentle that he couldn't reconcile them with the hands that murdered his loved ones.

"If you change your mind, I'll stop," Kuroro continued quietly. "But I'm going to take what you're willing to give."

Kuroro looked at him for another heartbeat, then the space between them was lost by their yearning, his lips robbing the air from Kurapika's lungs. Kurapika's hands tangled in Kuroro's hair, his fingers tugging in the strands so that he could tilt Kuroro's head and fit their mouths together more easily. Kuroro pulled him closer by the waist, and he could feel Kuroro's erection straining against his backside. The impossible heat of Kuroro's tongue made him lightheaded, made his skin prickle with the warmth suffusing through his body.

A quiet sigh escaped Kuroro's lips. He pulled away only to press a kiss against Kurapika's mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his neck, each time a moment too long. His kisses were so earnest that shivers raced down Kurapika's spine.

There was a shift, and Kuroro was pushing him flat on his back onto his jacket spread out on the ground. Kuroro's scent inundated his senses, and Kurapika couldn't focus on anything but him. It reminded him that he didn't care for nesting when he no longer had a home to call his own, but Kuroro's clothing had comforted him in a way that he couldn't quite explain. It was safety; it was contentment.

They gazed at each other once more, and then Kurapika slid his arms around Kuroro's neck, pulling him closer to him. They didn't kiss, but Kurapika leaned upward to nose at the crook of his neck, right where he could scent him. Kuroro manipulated people like it was second nature, but Kurapika knew that this one gesture had him wrapped around his finger.

Kuroro pushed him down again, and his mouth found Kurapika's throat. A careful kiss, and then there was teeth dragging over the claiming bite that Kuroro had inflicted upon him weeks ago, making him gasp. Kuroro bit down and sucked on his skin, and lightning-sharp sensations seared through Kurapika's nerve endings. Another mark would surely bloom in his wake.

Without another word, Kuroro was turning him over so that he was on his knees, his hips raised, and all Kurapika could manage was a surprised hitch of breath. The position was questionable when they had never done it like this before, but then Kuroro pressed a kiss against the nape of his neck.

He pressed his forehead against Kuroro's jacket as hands ran up his sides, his chest, his shoulders, exploring everything that he had to offer. Kuroro unbuttoned Kurapika's dress shirt, leaving it hanging over his shoulders, laying feathery-light kisses down the line of his spine as he did. His hands slid down to his pants, fingers hooking into the belt loops. Kurapika lifted his hips so Kuroro could slide his pants and undergarments down, exposing his skin to the cool air, and he pulled them off at once.

He waited in anticipation as Kuroro divested himself of his own clothes, tossing his tee shirt aside. There was the sound of a packet of lubricant being torn, and Kuroro settled behind him.

Kuroro's hands slid over his backside, spreading him apart. The finger pressing against his entrance was cold from the generous amount of lubricant, and Kurapika could feel Kuroro slightly shaking behind him. Kuroro rubbed at his rim to warm up the lubricant from his body heat, and then he was easing in a finger.

Kurapika gasped, trying to breathe as Kuroro stretched him open, finger slick with lubricant. All thoughts scattered besides the heat of his Alpha and how his body was readily accepting Kuroro, the same way it did the last time they did this. It was so odd when he couldn't see Kuroro in this position—could only feel the burn of his finger as he pressed at his walls, sliding all the way inside and rubbing at his prostate.

Kurapika tensed, and everything inside him was strikingly hot. A flush stained his cheeks, and surely his eyes were scarlet now, just as bright as his complexion. After stretching him with one finger, Kuroro pushed in another, and he continued to prepare him until Kurapika couldn't help but whimper, his muscles pulled taut and clenching around Kuroro's fingers.

Two became three, and there was urgency in the way Kuroro prepared him, different from the patience Kuroro afforded whenever they did this. Kuroro was thrusting his fingers inside him, and Kurapika could feel the flame of arousal low in his abdomen and—he was almost there.

But Kuroro pulled out his fingers, and Kurapika was achingly empty.

"Oh," Kurapika breathed out. There was the faint rustle of clothing behind him, and he could feel Kuroro shrug himself out of his own pants. The head of Kuroro's cock pressed against his entrance, and he tensed up again.

Kuroro paused, smoothing a hand over his hip. No further words were exchanged as he pushed into him, the stretch of his cock thicker than his fingers, spreading him open so well. Kuroro entered him slowly, bottoming out inside with the full length of him, and Kurapika felt even fuller in this position.

Kurapika's mouth fell open, his brows pinching together as he struggled for silence. It was as though Kuroro was made to fit his body with how his chest was pressed against Kurapika's back, his mouth was seeking the place between his neck and shoulder, his length was buried impossibly deep inside him. Kuroro wasn't much taller than him, but he was a solid presence, broader than him, and that made him feel so much smaller, being held like this.

Kuroro's teeth grazed his shoulder, threatening enough for Kurapika to clench around him. Kurapika bore down, forcing him deeper inside him.

"So good," Kuroro mumbled against his skin, making him shiver. "You are so good to me, Kurapika."

He pulled out, dragging against the spot that made Kurapika lose all inhibitions, and slammed back in without hesitation. The sensation wrenched a strangled moan from Kurapika's lips, and Kuroro's grip tightened on his hips as he started moving, setting an unforgiving, relentless pace from the very start. Kuroro latched onto his shoulder, teeth stinging his skin, and Kurapika was conflicted with the pleasure edging on pain as he lay there, unable to do anything but take it all.

For Kuroro to succumb to his instincts unraveling inside him—it made Kurapika's heart beat in resonance with Kuroro's desperation, Kuroro's desire, even if it terrified him deep down. He tried to rise and lift himself up on his elbows, but Kuroro slammed a hand down on his shoulder to shove him back down. His cheek pressed against Kuroro's jacket, Kuroro's intoxicating scent filled his nose, and Kuroro continued rocking into him, harsh and deep as if he was carving a place inside of him.

Kurapika swallowed the next moan threatening to escape him, willed himself to keep the sounds of pleasure sealed in his throat, and his hands curled into the fabric of Kuroro's jacket. The next thrust slammed into him so hard that he couldn't help the cry that fell past his lips, and Kuroro was merciless now. Each time he thrust back in, Kurapika could feel him in his very core, his cock hitting deep inside him, too good for comprehension.

Kuroro's mouth was still pressed against Kurapika's skin, his breathing harsh. Even though Kurapika wasn't moving at all, he couldn't catch his breath with the rhythm of Kuroro's hips, pressing against him over and over again. He could feel the fabric of Kuroro's loose sweatpants against his skin. Kurapika's arms skid over the ground as he tried to shift his knees, and Kuroro fisted a hand in his hair, forcing his head up and making his back arch. Kurapika let out a sharp hiss, tightening around him.

Kuroro straightened himself up, seizing Kurapika's hair as he did. He held Kurapika in place as he pulled back and gave another harsh thrust, hard and solid against Kurapika's most sensitive spot. The angle was deeper and sharper like this, and all coherency vanished under Kuroro's thrusts.

"If I didn't know better," Kuroro murmured, laced with smug satisfaction, "I'd think that you liked that."

Kurapika turned around to glare at him, but he allowed himself to suffer the greater good of Kuroro's heat against the chill of their surroundings. Even if it meant giving Kuroro control when he couldn't bear to uphold it any longer. Kuroro released his hair, the sting of his grip still lingering, but his hands roamed over Kurapika's body while he moved. One of Kuroro's hands slid under him, splaying across his stomach and pressing down, and there was no way he could feel himself inside, but Kurapika's face burned all the same.

He buried his face in his arms, nearly sobbing as the tight heat in his abdomen continued to build, his own hardness brushing against Kuroro's jacket. His hands tore at the material of the jacket, but he couldn't get leverage. Kuroro was moving faster, harder, snapping his hips against him and continuing the onslaught of his thrusts, and he—

He was falling apart.

"Too much," Kurapika choked out, and he was coming.

The force of orgasm shattered through him, blinding in its intensity, and he could feel the tremor in his very bones. He made a mess across his abdomen, Kuroro's jacket, but he couldn't breathe, couldn't focus on anything but how Kuroro continued pounding into him, heat burning in his veins with every movement.

Several harsh thrusts slammed into him, and Kuroro's rhythm turned desperate, his thrusts faltering. Kuroro leaned forward again, putting his full weight on Kurapika, his chest pressing against Kurapika's back, and there was a low growl against his skin. Hot breath over the nape of his neck was his only warning before teeth sunk into his skin, drawing blood with a burst of pain, wrenching a strangled cry from him.

One last thrust, and something was bursting inside him and filling him to the brim, a rush of warmth that he could nearly feel in his abdomen. Kuroro groaned and stilled behind him, and Kurapika's thighs trembled at the searing heat of his release. It was deep, hot, but the stretch and burn of Kuroro's knot that he had expected didn't come.

Kuroro worked on catching his breath, resting his hands Kurapika's hips. He pulled out after a moment, the spill of his release following him, and Kurapika whimpered. Surely he was a sight to behold. Blond hair fell around his face, sweat-soaked and tangled from the way Kuroro had caught his hair. Claiming bites marked the expanse of his skin, promising to linger for days to come, and he was certain that he wasn't going to be able to cover up all of them. Wetness slid down his thighs, the intermingling of Kuroro's come and lubricant, and his legs were still shaking.

Kuroro pushed Kurapika on his back again, and he didn't resist. His knees didn't give out, but they ached from being scraped against the ground. If he was in his right mind, he would have felt exposed like this, but his mind was silent.

"Too much?" Kuroro echoed.

Kurapika was too dazed to answer. He had wondered how Kuroro would look at the mercy of his own body, when his expressions were always well-controlled and guarded against those who didn't know him. Kuroro looked offensively handsome like this—beyond his composed demeanor with his hair tousled, face flushed, breathing unsteady, as the last threads of self-restraint and self-preservation snapped beneath Kurapika's hands.

Something within Kurapika radiated with knowledge, reinforcing the fact that Kuroro was just as affected by their bond as he was.

"I doubt that was enough for you," Kurapika muttered, voice rough.

Kuroro laughed, desiccated. He settled in between Kurapika's legs, his gaze admiring the sight beneath him, and he wasn't the only one appraising his mate.

Kurapika stared absently at the ribbons of black ink on Kuroro's arm, the figure for zero etched onto the body of the twelve-legged spider. A zero was characterized by nothing, but Kuroro had made it a beginning; without it, the Spiders would have never come into existence. He couldn't dwell on it, because all of sudden, a wave of dizziness struck him.

Strange. His head didn't spin like this when he came. It was fortunate that he was lying down now, because he would've collapsed if he wasn't.

"Still with me, love?"

Kurapika shivered at the term of endearment. Kuroro stroked his hair, and the softness of the gesture was too stark of a contrast from the severity of his bite marks, the intensity of his thrusts when he was inside him before.

His lightheadedness didn't abate, and the air was unnaturally hot, nearly suffocating. It wasn't the warmth from the fire, nor was it the heat radiating from Kuroro's body, but—

Heat sinking deep into his muscles and bones, inexorable and painstakingly familiar. Kuroro's scent intensified, and Kurapika slapped a hand over his mouth, steadying himself to keep the overwhelming flood of sensations at bay.

He came back to himself. With sudden, aching clarity, he understood what was happening.

Their cycles were syncing up.

Judging from how Kuroro's eyes widened, he was coming to the same conclusion.

"I shouldn't be—" Kurapika's expression was pained. "My heat wasn't supposed to come."

Cheadle divulged that his heats would likely occur once a month without suppressants, but with his irregular adherence to them, against her recommendation, there was no telling what could happen.

"I know," Kuroro said softly. "Medication isn't always a guarantee, especially when you've been taking suppressants this long. I must have triggered your heat."

Kurapika considered the possibilities, no matter how improbable they were. Harshness settled over his features, and he couldn't help but frown. "You didn't touch my pills, did you?"

While he didn't mean to sound accusatory, there was no way of asking without making it seem like he was.

"Of course not." Kuroro's expression was curious, and then he leaned over to kiss his forehead. Kurapika's heart stuttered in his chest, not entirely unpleasant. "Never."

Kurapika rubbed a hand over his face, and nodded. Heat bloomed in his chest like red spider lilies flowering in late summer, ardent and aching, and there was only one thing that could pacify him.

Kuroro slid his hands beneath Kurapika's knees and spread him. Kurapika tried to close his legs, could feel slick seeping out of himself, but Kuroro's hands settled firmly on them, keeping them parted. Something dangerous flickered in those eyes, a fevered intensity that made Kurapika's heart race. "I want to take you again."

Kurapika swallowed past the tightness in his throat. "Okay."

Kuroro rummaged in the backpack next to their clothes strewn over the ground and found another packet of lubricant. He tore the edge with his mouth—Kurapika shouldn't have found that so attractive—and slicked some more lubricant over himself. He guided his length to Kurapika's opening, and the promise of a pleasant stretch was enough for Kurapika to feel himself harden again.

Kurapika was still slick and pliant from earlier, so when Kuroro sank into him again, thick and warm and heavy, he ached.

Kuroro leaned over him, both hands braced against the jacket he was lying on, and he brushed his lips against the curve Kurapika's own mouth as he pushed all the way inside. Kurapika shut his eyes, shivering from oversensitivity and the aftershocks of pleasure, focusing on the sensation of Kuroro inside him and how he was going to feel him for days to come.

Kuroro pulled back so that only the head of his cock was inside, then slammed into Kurapika in a smooth, effortless motion that sent lightning scorching through his core.

"Fuck," Kurapika choked out, body arching up to Kuroro, and tried not to lose himself completely.

He caught the faintest grin on Kuroro's face before it fell from his lips. A groan escaped him as Kuroro made a series of harsher thrusts, and he didn't think Kuroro was holding back before, but there was insatiable avarice in the way Kuroro was gazing at him. A devotion to Kurapika, unlike anything he had seen before.

He didn't know how to feel about that, so he draped his arms around Kuroro's neck, dragging him down for another kiss to distract himself, open-mouthed and uncoordinated. He wrapped his legs around Kuroro's waist, ankles hooking behind his back, and each time Kuroro withdrew and slid inside, his arousal wound tighter in his abdomen and his heat burned stronger.

"Feel good?" Kuroro asked, soft against his lips.

A sound of agreement was Kurapika's only answer. Kuroro raised Kurapika's legs to rest them over his shoulders and he hitched his hips up as well.

"Then I'll make you feel even better."

Kuroro thrust forward with the snap of his hips, and Kurapika gasped out his name, a shudder wracking throughout his entire body. The angle and depth was everything he needed and possibly more, and Kuroro was more than willing to comply as he grabbed his hips, pounding into him with all of his strength. Kuroro chased after his own release, and inside of Kurapika, his cock pressed deeper, hitting that spot that made Kurapika push back for more.

Kuroro's hand reached between them, and he took Kurapika's erection in his palm, stroking him in hand while continuing to move inside him at once. Kurapika's hands searched for something to hold onto, and all he found was the ground, the sleeves of Kuroro's jacket. Every pull of Kuroro's hand brought him closer and closer to completion and the mind-numbing pleasure sparking at his nerves was so overwhelming, so much more.

It wasn't long until Kurapika spilled over his abdomen, trembling with force of his climax. Kuroro didn't pause—only continued fucking into his oversensitive body with deliberate, frantic thrusts. The clench of his muscles was enough to push Kuroro over the edge, and he could feel Kuroro pulse before finishing inside him again, his warmth marking Kurapika from the inside out.

Kuroro leaned forward, burying his face in Kurapika's neck, panting softly. Kurapika was still shaking from the aftermath of orgasm, from Kuroro's release overflowing from where they were connected.

But the burning need within him wasn't pacified—only incited even further. His heat could only end with Kuroro's knot, but he didn't know how long an Alpha's rut was supposed to last if Kuroro was bonded to him.

* * *

Kurapika couldn't recall how many times he came or how many times Kuroro came inside him.

They didn't pause for breaks aside from catching their breaths, and Kuroro was still thrusting inside him. He measured the passage of time from observing the opening of the cave from where he was lying down. The storm had calmed, the shriek of the wind had hushed, and all he could hear was the indecent sounds of skin against skin. There was an earthy scent lingering in the air, something familiar that he couldn't quite place.

They were kissing again, and Kurapika pushed at Kuroro's chest for the unavoidable need for air, outweighing his innate desire for his mate.

"Kuroro," he said, voice too rough, "I—"

Kuroro's dark eyes studied him, full of something he couldn't identify. "Do you want to stop?"

His sight blurred before him, leaving bright afterimages of Kuroro's form. Even as he narrowed his eyes, his sight refused to focus. Darkness edged at his peripheral vision, and he strained against the draw of unconsciousness, but it was growing stronger and stronger and—

He was helpless against it.

Before he could answer, his mind slid into darkness.

* * *

"Kurapika?"

"Wha—?"

The darkness eased, and Kurapika returned to the scent of black coffee burning in his nose, reminding him of how caffeine always roused him when his mind was too heavy with the remnants of sleep.

When he reluctantly looked up, Kuroro was leaning over and watching him, his hair clinging to his face like ink strokes, a strange concern worrying his handsome features. Firelight bathed his skin, softening his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, but the weariness under his eyes spoke of exhaustion. "You passed out for a moment. Are you alright?"

Kurapika tried to shift instinctively, flinching at the fullness inside of him. Panic seized his heart for the briefest of moments, and then he grasped the memory of where he was and what he was doing. Kuroro wasn't moving, but he didn't pull out either.

"Oh," Kurapika murmured, thinking of how faint he was. Tension eased from his shoulders, and he settled back against Kuroro's jacket on the ground. "Oh, I'm fine. I think I'm just tired."

"We should stop here," Kuroro said, his voice hushed. That wasn't what Kurapika wanted, and the covetous desire rising in his heart didn't want to let Kuroro go.

Before Kurapika could protest, Kuroro added, "Can I knot you?"

Kurapika's mouth went slack. There was something unmistakable at the base of Kuroro's cock, swelling against his opening, promising a fullness that he yearned for desperately. The deepest parts of his mind echoed a litany of yes, please and fill me up, and he didn't trust himself to speak again.

Kurapika nodded, and Kuroro was pushing his knot inside, stretching him wider than before. Kuroro dipped down and nosed along his sensitive neck, breathing in his scent deeply.

"You are so lovely," Kuroro suddenly said, and the flush on Kurapika's cheeks returned with vengeance. "I wouldn't have anyone else for a mate."

Kurapika reached out to weave a hand through Kuroro's hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. Only in heat was Kurapika's body most receptive to something this large, and while the pressure was edging on too much, Kuroro was able to ease himself fully inside, his cock pressing in deeper than it ever did.

Kurapika shuddered around him, and he found himself coming again, unraveling at the seams, stretched too far and too full of Kuroro's release. He feared that he would lose himself to unconsciousness again, but he gripped onto Kuroro's hair to ground himself, unwilling to let go, and Kuroro didn't seem to mind.

His hand fell from Kuroro's hair and he breathed a soft sigh, finally sated. His breath fluctuated with the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his mind was quiet. The throbbing ache in his chest eased up, more manageable now. Maybe it wasn't entirely gone, but it was enough.

He hoped that Kuroro shared the same sentiments. Kuroro pushed himself up on his elbows so he could lean over him again, and the look in his eyes was unreadable.

"What is it?"

"Nothing important," Kuroro answered, almost as dazed as how Kurapika was feeling. "Just wondering about something."

He smoothed a hand over Kurapika's abdomen, stroking his fingers over the lean muscle and pressing down, right where he was buried deep inside. "Can you feel me here?"

The intensity of Kuroro's gaze was palpable, and Kurapika unconsciously tightened around him, for the conclusions he was drawing.

"What would happen if you—"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Kurapika warned, suppressing a shiver at the implications.

"Humor me," Kuroro answered with a small, albeit charming smile.

"You're being delusional."

"Please," Kuroro added.

Kurapika was barely twenty. The kind of future Kuroro was alluding to was not something that he wanted now or ever considered, and even the hypothetical made his chest tighten. "You can't possibly be serious."

"I've been thinking about this for the past few days," Kuroro revealed in a low voice, averting his gaze. "About what would happen if you weren't on medication."

Kurapika's face burned, on behalf of Kuroro and himself. He fervently hoped that the words spilling from Kuroro's mouth was nonsense from the Alpha in rut, that Kuroro would forget all about it tomorrow and attribute his speech to the severity of his fever.

Kurapika couldn't believe that he was asking this. "You want… a child?"

"I would," Kuroro answered, looking at him with a tenderness that made his heart ache. His eyes shone with terrifying sincerity. "...Do you?"

He couldn't bring himself to envision it happening in these circumstances. "I don't know."

"Well," Kuroro began, taking Kurapika's hand in his and interlacing their fingers, "I want a daughter and a son."

"So that you can raise another generation of Spiders?"

Kuroro laughed with gentle amusement. "So that I can have another family. I would respect your wishes if you didn't want to."

Kurapika's panic over an abstract future turned into confusion. He couldn't discern if Kuroro was speaking to him seriously, but the conversation was turning into something that made him deeply uncomfortable. That was the issue with being joined like this—he wasn't able to move until his knot subsided.

"Let's not talk about this," Kurapika urged. There was one child who was at the forefront of his mind, and that was Prince Woble. "We have to focus on the mission."

"Alright, Kurapika." Kuroro squeezed his hand, reassuring. "Get some rest first."

* * *

Notes: It's been a while! Two years in fact. Is anyone still reading this?

I decided to write several kink tropes that I haven't written before, so hopefully this was alright. I don't recall if I've ever written this much smut in one chapter. I'll explain more about Kurapika's mission in the future chapters.

I've also read some people say that an Alpha's rut is triggered by an Omega in heat. I reversed this so that the heat was triggered by rut and made Kurapika suffer again. :')

Please leave a comment! You can follow me and reach out to me on Twitter (seiyunablog).


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